


Dragon Ball/Super/Z x Reader One-Shots

by LadyMonoceros



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMonoceros/pseuds/LadyMonoceros
Summary: Various xReader one-shots. I'm currently accepting requests.- No lemons- No off-the-wall AU, like everyone is a vampire or something.
Relationships: Hit/Reader, Piccolo (Dragon Ball)/Reader, Son Goku/Reader, Various (Dragon Ball)/ Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Of Irises and Daffodils (Goku x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice fluff requested by: @SaiyanAsia  
>  This one could probably be interpreted as a male or female reader, so that's cool.

As a farmer for money, and a martial arts hobbiest, never in your years did you expect to meet someone of similar lifestyle. All other farmers you had met through the business were just that - farmers. You had energy, though, and you desired the strength to work independantly, so you picked up martial arts at a young age so to keep your family from having to hire extra help, thus taking away from your meager funds. They wouldn't allow you to participate in the tournament, which was disappointing, but your parents feared your safety against the contenders they had seen. Larger, scary people who looked as though they could rip you in half. "You're strong," they'd say, "but you're not invincible." As if that's what was on your mind at all. You just wanted to help the family keep up with the bills.  
Eventually, your parents grew too old to care for the farm, selling it. You moved out, not out of spite, mind you, but to give space to your parents in their tiny home. A large plot of land in the mountain range was all you could afford; the further from the city, the cheaper. At least it would be good endurance training bringing the goods to and from town. You were able to make ends meet with the varieties of produce and dried herbs. Business was good, and you rarely had time to make friends between work and training. Life was sometimes lonely, but your occassional visits to your parents, plus the hustle and bustle of the market street kept you charged with social energy.  
Some years later, you noticed a tractor in the distance. It plowed the ground at a steady pace, creating noticable rows of divets in the earth. Such a sight was new, considering that you had been farming so far from the city for a lengthy amount of time. To find that you had a neighbor was, in a sense, exciting. So, what better way to be a farmer than welcome the new neighbor with a nice casserole or cookies - or both? You did just that. Using all your best skills and freshest produce from your own hands. You wrapped it all in a cute picnic blanket and quickly headed out. One last glance to the nearby fields showed that whoever it was no longer needed the tractor, but even needed a new field! Somehow, during your homely kitchenwork, a crater had formed in the neighbor's work, looking to have been struck by a meteor. You rushed downhill, uphill, and downhill again with a fear that some sort of misfortune had befell the new neighbor.  
When you reached the strange field, breath heavy and legs starting to ache, you noticed a strange-looking man trying his best to fill the crater back in as if it was all his fault - because it was. When Goku explained that he was training out of boredom and how he hated how slow it was to farm, you found yourself laughing at this goofy character. It was that moment that sparked a friendship you had yet to experience; a bond between the two of you that was bittersweet.  
After formal introductions to the family, you gradually became close with them. Chichi favored you for your guidance so Goku would get his share of the farming done. Goku favored you for the regular training. And Goten was just happy to have a new face around.  
Time went by, and you learned about the use of ki, flight, aliens, the dragon balls, and the good and evil that came with it all. You endured strange darkness that enveloped the sky and how the Son family furrowed their brows with concern. Goku would disappear for a while - sometimes days - and eventually return as though nothing happened. You eventually got him to spill the beans, which lead to you wishing you could have helped somehow. "These guys are scary," he'd say. "And you're strong! Don't get me wrong," he'd defend, "but not invincible."  
"And you are?" Tears brimmed your eyelids, remembering the same words that slipped from your parents' mouths. "Just because you have some God mode doesn't mean you can't die!"  
The hurt in Goku's eyes was striking; it seemed to reflect all of the grief he had to endure when other friends were killed in past battles. Sure, they were able to be wished back by the dragon balls, but there were limits. Even Goku had run out of revival options long ago; pure luck was all he had left. "The last thing I need to see is someone like you dying," he tenderly gipped your upper arm with assurance. "Even if you could be wished back, I'd never want you to get involved with the terrors I have to face," did you detect a crack in his voice?  
"Then," you studied your best friend's face, seeing the aging features of a tired soul - the features that he hid from the rest of the world, "why am I training at all? I get stronger, but I'm never strong enough."  
For a while, Goku was unable to respond. You knew the answer already, and you knew that he was afraid to sound selfish by admitting it. Goku sparred and trained with you because you were fun to fight. He knew that he could reach higher levels than with his other friends, and some of them dropped interest in martial arts to raise their families. He trained with you for his own entertainment and release from the boring routine of making money. Beyond the selfishness of it all, you also knew that Goku enjoyed your company; the fact that he could express emotions that no one else was able to witness. Goku felt free; even more so than what he let on around others. "We train together because one day," he swallowed, "I might need you to save me." He took your hands into his own, holding them together with a tight clasp. Of all the things he could have said, you weren't expecting that.  
With searching eyes, you tried your best to see into Goku's black windows. "How the hell would I do that? If someone actually defeats you at full power-"  
"From myself," he interrupted.  
"Oh please," you flashed a confused smirk. "You're a prodigy. What could you possibly do-"  
Goku squeezed your hands tighter, stopping your words in their tracks, "I've noticed that these transformations more and more have to do with the state of mind. I'm worried that one day I'll find a powerful transformation that controls me. Ultra Instinct does practically that already, so I'm even more scared of what the next level could be."  
"I'm only able to fight you at Super Saiyan 3," you gawked. "How could I stop you at that point?"  
Releasing your hands, Goku hesitated, afraid that he might cross a sacred boundary, before slipping his arms around your shoulders into a warm embrace. "Because you don't just have a way with plants in the ground here; you have a way with keeping me grounded, too. When I'm with you, all of my fears go away; and if I need to cry, your shoulders a strong enough to hold me up."  
_Stong enough._  
He said you were strong enough!  
Why did this man have to be married? Why did you have to meet him long after he had children? Why were you cursed to love someone you could never truly have? The frienship you cherrished was something you would never let go, but there were days when you wanted more. "Dammit, Goku," your lips quivered.  
A slow, chaste kiss was planted atop your head. Goku knew of your feelings for him. The two of you had discussed it long ago when he detected a strange tension out of nowhere. He did his best to show you the love you longed for while keeping it simple and clean. In the end, Goku couldn't deny that he had developed a bond with you that had yet to be explored. You were determined to never betray Chichi, no matter how strongly you wanted her husband for yourself. Instead, you and Goku agreed to share a deep friendship; never allowing the other to cross that line. Sometimes, it was painful; most any other time was bliss. The two of you would enjoy an intense sparring session, then lay in a field of flowers to watch the sky and talk about nothing and everything. The same cratered field that blossomed such a beautiful friendship; a field of irises and daffodils.


	2. Calm Before the Storm (Goku x Daughter!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff between Goku and daughter Reader-chan before the Tournament of Power.
> 
> Requested by: @YuGiOhfan1999 on Wattpad

"You're favoring your left side too much," your father lectured in the midst of a spar. To prove his point, the Saiyan struck you down with ease, "It creates a predictable opening." He watched as you collided with the earth below, casting a small crater of your embodiment . The evening sun burned a fiery glow on every surface it could kiss; sometimes, in these moments of glaring up to Goku for being right - as always - during training, you thought you could smell the evening lambent, too.  


With a grunt, you climbed to your feet and returned to a defensive stance. Goku lowered himself back to the ground and strode over to your awaiting form. You watched him approach, wondering what other flaw he wanted to indicate. Daughter of the prodigy fighter, you were becoming one, yourself; just like your older brother - by two years - Gohan. Your father wanted the two of you to participate in the Tournament of Power, and who were you to deny such a dire request? After the Zen Exbition Match, Goku knew exactly how strong everyone needed to be if Universe 7 were to stand a chance. Though he often behaved like an imbecile, Goku was a force to be reckoned with on the subject of battle.  


"Here," Goku grabbed one of your raised arms and lowered it to be equal with your nose. He then adjusted your other arm to sit closer to your waistline, "It's important that you get your muscles used to this exact stance, because it'll save time in your strikes." A step back to size up your hold and Goku looked satisfied, "Every second counts." To this, you nodded, focusing on trying to memorize exactly where your arms were newly positioned; engraining it into your very cells.  


Goku centered himself directly in front of you, holding up his hands with open palms, "Now, let's go through the basics while you return to this stance." Again, you nodded.  


For about an hour, the two of you worked on that. Goku used the time to talk about the upcoming tournament and all that it may hold. This would be a whole new twist to the Martial Arts Tournament you were used to on earth. It was a nice bonding moment, and a rare time that Goku would actually talk in depth about life - or tried to.  


"How's Trunks?" Your father started when he figured you were getting the hang of returning to proper stance.  


After the Zamasu and Goku Black ordeal, Mirai Trunks no longer had a home to return to. Much to their chagrin, Beerus and Whis allowed Trunks to remain in your timeline. This allowed a simple crush from the Android event to blossom into a deeper relationship; Goku knew the two of you were dating, but Chichi had yet to catch on. "He's okay," you blushed at the thought of the blue-haired boy, and in your moment of weakness, fumbled a kick to Goku's hand.  


Goku laughed, catching your foot before you completely lost your balance. When you reset yourself to continue, he carried on the conversation, "Well, as long as you're getting along, that's all I care about." A punch here, a kick there; punch, punch, kick. The solid - _thumps_ \- of your fists and feet landing against your father's large hands audibly resounded in the open, hillside plains. Goku continued to ask about Trunks, tossing the occassional teasing one-liner just to see his daughter get flustered over a boy.  


Eventually, the subject of the Tournament of Power came up, "As you saw in the Exibition Match, our opponents are able to fight dirty, even with the rules." Goku held eye contact with you, making sure that you understood the severity of the upcoming fights. "You need to stay aware of your opponent and don't let anything distract you," he said.  


"I won't, dad," you nodded, getting in one last kick before Goku lowered his hands. It was then that you noticed a booted, wiggling foot just in the corner of your vision. Goku had raised his leg and held his foot just near your shoulder, yet you hadn't noticed a change in his stance at all, that sneaky Saiyan. When you turned your head to get a clear look at your goofy dad's foot, Goku prodded your forehead with two fingers, swiftly catching your attention back to his sly face.  


"No distractions, ____!" Goku lowered his leg and hunched forward, hands raised as though ready to pounce.  


"That's no fair. W-wait a min-AHh!" In the midst of pouting, Goku snatched you by the torso and began a tickle attack. His childish giggles answered your howls of laughter as you tried to fight him off. The two of you toppled to the ground, where Goku pinned your smaller frame, and continued his onslaught of paralyzing tickles.  


"Why are you still distracted, ____?" Your father cackled, enjoying the harmless tourment he was causing.  


With tears trickling from the corners of you eyes, you struggled to give some sort of verbal response, but only guffaws and shrieks expelled from your lungs. A brief moment of sanity was all you needed to power up and throw Goku off of you. He rolled across the ground, still giggling, and landed in a crouch of anticipation. "I'm gonna make you pay for that," you roared, though a playful sneer spread wide over your face. As soon as the first muscle flexed to propel you forward, Goku darted to the side and began to run home, grinning and cackling like the buffoon he was. You gave chase, hot on his heels for quite a while, but that Saiyan was a slippery one; each time you were sure to catch him, that goofy father of yours avoided your grasp.  


The pursuit continued all the way home, where Chichi and Goten were just about to call you two for dinner. While Goku was distracted by the smell of his wife's cooking, you managed to tackle him from behind, returning the favor from earlier. The two of you rolled to the ground once more, where you victoriously straddled Goku and gave him the tickling of his life. A devilish grin crossed your face when Goku begged Chichi for help, which she didnt. Goten ran over with glee, pleased to join in the playtime; his tiny hands helped you send your father screaming with laughter while Chichi watched lovingly from the doorstep. The glow of the evening was growing dim, and dusk began to set in. Mesmerizing light from your home radiated through the windows. The sound of chirping crickets grew louder, though barely audible beneath the bellowing laughter around your modest abode. For a while, life was peaceful.


	3. Propel (Hit x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are the mate of a rich, but abusive, criminal. Hit comes to collect his bounty.

This wasn't the first time he had encountered such dispicable acts on the job, nor would it ever be the last. He could only wonder how many other bounties were guilty of such atrocities, but unknown to himself. How many invisible lives had he saved? Hit could never decided if he preferred to catch the devil in the act or kill it while it slumbered. All he knew was that the numbness he expected to develop had yet to rear its solemn head.  


A bounty - a target - had somehow wooed a female into being his mate once again. Hit lacked, or possibly refused, the ability to fathom how these women ended up with such monsters. To walk into his target's presence and see marred flesh of the innocent always left a foul film on his tongue. Bruises, burns, and scrapes, all tactlessly hidden by jewelry and clothes that suggested the opposite of what was so obvious - abuse. Even so, the stoic expression on Hit's face never faltered. He remained ever vigilant; keeping his emotions in check so not to blunder.  


This time around, Hit approached his bounty in a night club on one of the largest gambling planets in Universe 6. The man was wanted for a steep debt, along with a handful of mortal crimes. In the dim atmosphere and dancing neon lights, Hit could discern the criminal's signature bejewled front teeth - golden, and inlayed with two individual blue and green gem. They shimmered with each pass of the ceiling lights, his grin never falling. In the grip of the man's left arm, a fragile female of similar race stiffly sat in the booth. She rarely partook in drinks unless forced to, and her overt discomfort shown in every pore on her face. She was a pretty thing, if one could look beyond the splotches of bruising and frazzled hair; the opaque scars lightly scattered over her collarbone and arms. Hit could only guess what other marrs littered the flesh that was hidden by clothing; he always hoped for the best, but knew better. Soon, you, this defenseless woman, would be free of her abhorrent excuse of a mate.  


Hit's target took notice of his presence, yelling for his bodyguards to intervene. Everyone knew of Hit, and they knew well not to get in his way of a bounty, but the guards could only attempt to do their job - poorly. Seemingly, two bursts of air emitted from Hit's sides, to which the pair of guards collapsed to the floor almost immediately, knocked unconscious. By this point, you squeaked with fear, only holding your silence for a greater fear of your mate. "Cabochon," Hit boomed over the pounding club music, "you can either give yourself up or die here."  


The man, Cabochon, barred his teeth at Hit with vexation, "There's always a third option!" At that, he pulled you in front of his larger frame, holding you close while you were forced to divide the space between himself and Hit. Such a coward planned to use you as a meat shield! You whimpered at the thought of cold-blooded assassin, Hit, attacking straight through you just to get his bounty completed. Quickly, you settled on the brighter side of things, knowing that at least in death, you wouldn't have to suffer at the hands of your mate any longer. Eyes shut tight, you waited for the release of the afterlife, hoping that the last moment of pain wouldn't linger.  


It was over quickly; somehow, Hit's targets could never get it through their thick skulls that he was known as "Hit, the Infallible" for a damn good reason. He used a simple Flash Fist Crush to strike Cabochon directly in the forehead. The caved-in skull put pressure onto the man's eyes, bulging them out into a grotesque image. He was dead before he toppled to the floor.  


Feeling your mate's hold around you loosen, you opened your eyes in time to move away before he pulled you down with him. Still, the horror of a dead being before you forced a distressed pitch to escape your vocals. With hands clasped over your mouth, you looked away, trying to sort the mixed feelings of horror and relief. A large hand tenderly rested over your upper arm, catching your attention. It belonged to the purple assassin, the last person you expected to have a consoling expression across his face; the way his dimpled brow softened and tapered upward in the center of his forehead. You turned to properly face him, wondering what he could possibly want with a squalid being such as yourself.  


"Do you have somewhere safe to go," he asked, the gravelly voice somehow giving you comfort.  


You shook your head, lowering your eyes away to your dead mate, "If I go back to his home, the authorities will just have me removed. I own nothing."  


At that, Hit turned and lifted the plump corpse with a single arm, hoisting it upon his should like a sack of dirt, "Do you know anyone on this planet who you can trust?" Again, you shook your head, knowing that your family had abandoned you long ago when you got involved with Cabochon. "Then come with me," the assassin didn't look back to make sure you were following, walking away through the curious crowd of drunken gamblers. The best thing about this planet was that you could openly assassinate a bounty in public, so long as you could prove there was a bounty at all. Hit often went for the high-paying ones, so one look at his prey and anyone could see that the bounty was legitimate.  


Embarrassed with all the attention, you held your gaze to the floor just beyond your toes, trying to avoid eye contact with the gawking masses. You trailed behind Hit's heels, hoping that he would get into a fancy car with tinted windows and speed off from this awful place; a knight in shining armor, right? Instead, he simply turned in Cabochon's body to the official near the casino entrance, punching out its two bejewled teeth for evidence, and then pocketed them into his coat. With a quick glance your way, Hit was off again, weaving through the busy streets of flashing lights and intoxicated stupor. The two of you eventually came upon a small, two person ship parked near the outskirts of the hustle and bustle. It opened upon Hit's approach, and he turned to you with one foot on the platform.  


He said, "I have a small apartment on another planet. I'm not there very often. You can stay there until you're able to find your own way."  


Hit was right; the apartment was terribly small. You had expected that he was simply being modest, and the abode would be a large studio with tons of frivolous things and luxuries - collections from his bounties - and yet this basic, hotel room style was all he owned. There seemed to be nothing of personality within the four main walls. It was all so plain that you were nearly convinced that he had bought you a hotel room instead. Eventually, you realized how obvious it should have been to you that such a high-prestige assassin would make sure to leave no trace of his existence, even in his own home. No wonder he wasn't worried about you stealing anything.  


As soon as you were given all of the information that you needed to comfortably live there, find a job, and get started on a new life, along with a bit of money, Hit was gone. He didn't say where to, but you were sure it was to turn in your deceased mate's teeth to collect the bounty. At first, you weren't sure if you wanted to be alone in someone else's abode. The fetor of death still filled your nostrils, remembering how quickly Cabochon's life was extinguished, for better or worse. You knew that you should hate Hit, but your situation wasn't ideal for a healthy relationship - if one could characterize it as one. Even so, it wasn't as though you knew how to survive on your own. All you ever knew was how to let a man take care of you, paying for everything with money, while you paid in suffering and the long nights of tears when you could finally be alone for a while. Hit could have at least taught you how to move on! But then, he wouldn't be the steely-eyed assassin that you had briefly met, only to suddenly be tossed into his home with a second chance at a better life.


	4. Not Slick Enough (Goku x Daughter!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This can be considered a sequel to "Calm Before the Storm". It's by the same requestor, anyway. And it was technically part of their original request.
> 
> Reader-chan encounters Maji-Kayo in the Tournament of Power. She holds her own for a bit, but that slippery Majin gets the better of her. Goku comes to the rescue!

The Tournament of Power had begun. You could feel your body trembling with a sickening mixture of excitement and unease. How long would it be before you were knocked out of the ring, giving a disadvantage to Universe 7? Would you be able to at least fight your way into the later-half of the tournament? Or would you fail your father's expectations and be one of the first to lose?  


You stuck with the majority of the team while Vegeta, Goku, 17, and 18 split off like the ballsy fighters they were. For a time, you were able to aid the team in holding together, preventing them from being knocked off of the platform within the first few minutes of the battle. Many of the opponents weren't as strong as you expected them to be, which eased your nerves to some degree. The more of the weaker foes removed from the platform, the higher chance of encountering one who could overpower you. It was best not to let your guard down, knowing that you hadn't seen everyone's abilities just yet. Eventually, the members of the other universes were strong enough to split up your group; you were left on your own against an irritating, blue Majin-being.  


This guy looked like a living jelly dessert - curled hair atop his head and all. The child-like form he donned gave an appearance of easy pickings, but you had taken notes of his trickery during his prior encounters nearby; and you knew how the Majin race were no wimps in any sense. Just like Majin-Buu, this blue one was snarky, boisterious, and sly. He quickly picked a fight with you, taunting with baseless words that still dug under your skin. "The name's Maji-Kayo! You're just a little Saiyan girl, huh? I hear they're just chumps for breeding," he knew how to dig deep, too.  


" _Half_ -Saiyan," you growled. "And I'll show you what a chump really is!" You dashed for him, ki enveloping your fists to make sure your hits did damage to his Majin flesh. This guy, though, was faster than you expected - even more so than when you had observed him earlier. He was able to dodge your attacks with his tricky abilities that came with a jelly-like form. All the while, the Majin-being cackled at your fruitless efforts.  


After a few trades of blows, your blue foe grew in size, bulking up to an adult form. "Playtime's over, little girl," sneering confidently, Maji-Kayo lunged for you, stretching his arms to entrap you in their grip. You were able to slip away several times, only just, until one misjudgement cost you the fight. Maji-Kayo extended a third limb from his muscular body, sneaking around while you were distracted by the pair of arms you had been avoiding. He swiftly wrapped his flesh around your ankle, pulling you down and causing you to slam your forehead into the hard platform. The blue being closed in, entrapping you with his arms and the rest of his body until you were left restrained and helpless. The smoothe texture of Maji-Kayo's flesh was deceiving; you expected it to be moist, yet it was dry and smooth like a soft, pliable glass. The relentless cackling from above your head taunted you further as the blue Majin hovered his formed face over you. "You sure showed me," he laughed and began to walk you to toward the edge of the tournament platform.  


You didn't give in to defeat, struggling against your captor's bond and growling with indignance. Though blood trickled down your face from the impact of the floor, you silently thanked fate that you were one of Goku's children - the hard-skulled man that he was. You kept focus, writhing and pushing against Maji-Kayo's constricting grip. It helped to slow down the Majin, making him stumble and wobble, but his confidence never faltered. Even powering up to Super Saiyan II wasn't enough to break free of Maji-Kayo's grip. He inched ever closer to the edge, and you weren't sure if he was planning to toss you over or sacrifice himself to be rid of you. Either way, your loss was the most important reason to keep fighting.  


"Hang on, ____!" A friendly voice reached your ears over the annoying cackles from above. It was a voice you openly welcomed: your father's.  


Goku charged in to the situation, grabbing Maji-Kayo by the throat and flinging the two of you back toward the center of the platform. He chased after, powering up, and began slapping the Majin's slick cheeks, "Let her go!" Goku could only do so much before the attacks would bring harm to you, too. The only safe place was Maji-Kayo's face. The smacking of flesh to flesh pattered just over the ambient sounds of the surrounding battles. If not for your painful ordeal, it would be a comical scene, for sure. You powered up once again, hoping one last push while your captor was distracted would do the trick.  


"Gah! Okay, okay!" Maji-Kayo spat and released you to the floor. You dropped, gasping for air that you didn't realize was missing from your lungs. The release of compression on your joints sighed with extrication. It was as though your entire body took a breath of fresh air.  


When Goku saw that you were free, he stepped back, charging a kamehameha. It was a brief development, just enough to blast Maji-Kayo away from the two of you. The blue being was hurled far across the platform, landing in the most unfortunate place: near Jiren.  


"You okay," your father inquired, extending a hand to you. You flashed a smile, accepting the offer of his hand, and Goku pulled you up to your feet. "You're doing great, ____. Don't let up." A gentle wipe over your forehead with his wristband only served to smear the blood. "Uh, oops. Your mom's better at cleaning that up," he chuckled ashamedly.  


With a nod, you straightened yourself out, "Thanks, dad. This is nothing." You gave him one last smile that tugged at a corner of your lips before the two of you split off into battle again. You knew that Goku would have your back, but you didn't want to be a burden to him in such a dire tournament. You needed to do better.


	5. Passerby (Hit x Reader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hit ends up crash landing on a planet, only to be rescued by a humble Reader-chan and your large wulg.

Sirens blared, beeped, and wailed in sequence with their blinking counterparts. Across the console of controls, they indicated the dire situation that the ship captain had already become aware of. The fuel tank was breached, an engine was blown, the hull had been severely damaged - nearly breaking the crucial barrier between a safe bubble of breathable air and the malignant vacuum of space. An enemy ship was hot on Hit's tail, probably some daring bounty hunters who happened to spot him on the last planet. Damn his one time that Hit didn't make a thorough search of his surroundings before leaving his last job. One of the few places that he was vulnerable was in his ship. Hit was at the mercy of his ammunition and defensive shields, rather than his own phsyical abilities. The battle stretched on passed several planets, and no matter the manuver, Hit couldn't shake his foe. Now, he had only one choice: land on the next planet that was coming up and have some chance of survival.  


To say that Hit landed on the grassy plains of the small planet would be a grave understatement; Hit crashed his ship with full force, leaving a crater of plowed soil in its wake. He tried his best to brace himself, preparing for the worst of impacts, but it wasn't enough. Hit walloped his head right into the ship's console, despite the seat harness across his torso. Thick shards of glass sliced his flesh as the window exploded from the force of the crash. A generator exploded in the rear of the ship, covering the area in smoke and fire. Hit fell unconscious, unable to stabalize himself from the brunt force of his cranial damage.  


The first thing to trigger Hit's senses was the smell of food; a savory aroma of herbs and meat. The second sense was his hearing; the muffled clinking and stirring of kitchenware, accompanied by a faint, rhythmic hum. Next was the feeling of soft cloth surrounding his body, and the sting of tender flesh. Hit's head ached with a powerful pressure, causing him to groan in protest as though the mere utterance would provide some symblance of relief. He cracked open his eyes, finding them heavy with exhaustion and swelling. As his vision cleared, Hit found himself within a bedroom of some sort; it was small, simple, and warm. An open window welcomed the gentle breeze with its swaying sheer curtains. The was a door across the room that had been left ajar, allowing Hit to see nothing more than the plain, wooden wall of a hallway. He eased himself up, feeling the bruises he had suffered in the crash as he began to recall what had happened. The only gap in Hit's memory was how he got from the crash site to this welcoming bed.  


Heavy breaths sounded from the window, followed by the huge, curious nose of some beast. The wet, black snout barely squeezed into the opening, but it managed as it took in deep whiffs of air. If Hit were being honest, the sudden intrusion had startled him - just a little. Before he could decide what to do about the sniffing appendage, Hit watched it retreat, which revealed a view of hairy beast legs; the body was hidden above the window's gaze. A deep bellow rumbled through the air, emitting from the furry, tan beast outside. In reaction, Hit heard a clattering from further in the home, then an efiminite, "Oh! He's awake!"  


Soft padding of bare feet drew closer to Hit's room. He watched with little concern and more curiosity knitted upon his brow. From what he could sense, the two beings he now knew of had relatively low power levels, and thus wouldn't be a threat to him. From the hallway that Hit couldn't see further down, a stocky woman in a sleeveless shirt, overalls, and a messy white apron atop it all appeared at his doorway. Your bulk was mostly defined by her muscular physique, which Hit could easily see from the toned arms. The disheveled bun of hair loosely tied back was frizzed from today's busy events.  


"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain," you queried with studious eyes. You noticed that the man's bandages didn't look oversaturated with blood, so he was safe in that regard, but you worried about his concussion. With no response from him, you continued covering all the basics, "Now that you're awake, please don't go to sleep for a few hours; I don't care how tired you feel. If you're hungry and want to get out of the bed for a while, then you're welcome to follow me to the kitchen, but I'd prefer you lounge around for a while longer."  


Hit figured it best to go into the kitchen with you, knowing that he already wanted to fall back asleep, "Food would be good."  


A smile lightened your anxious face, "I have some nice stew ready for you." Before you could turn to leave, the beast from outside whined and stamped its feet, creating noticable tremors in the ground. "Ah! Yes, yes," you laughed and approached the window. Reaching outside, you began to scratch and rub the beast's snout, "Such a good boy! Thank you for looking out for our guest! Great job!" Once satisfied, the beast raised its head to wander off. You turned away, shaking your head and waving for Hit to follow you to the kitchen.  


"That was Biiba," you explained. "He's a domestic wulg that I raised from a pup. Biiba overheard your ship crash and went running. I chased him, only to find you unconscious and some other ship landing. They looked like they were up to no good, so Biiba and I chased them off. Our planet's wulgs scare off a lot of visitors," you chuckled, turning a corner where the aroma of stew was thickest. "Have a seat at the bar, I'll fix you a bowl," you said.  


Hit complied, taking a seat on the tall stool. He listened to you talk about his crash-landing in further detail; about his wounds and how serious they were; how he was lucky that Biiba was a nosey wulg or those bad strangers would have taken off with him. Then, you brought him a deep bowl of steaming stew and rice. The thick gravy looked like a savory cream. Before Hit could dig in, he noticed you staring at him intently, so he raised a brow in hopes that he wouldn't have to speak with the pounding headache he still had.  


Getting the hint, you asked your burning question, "I never got your name. What is it? Mine's ____."  


"Hit," he responded softly; and even that added to the pressure in his head.  


You turned around and dug in many cabinets that lined the walls of your kitchen. There, you found a few dried herbs and mixed them into some hot water, leaving it to steep for a while. "Hit's an interesting name. But, when you meet people from different planets, I'm sure there's all sorts of unique names," you nonchalantly made conversation, even if it was mostly one-sided. You had a feeling it was due to the headache that you knew the poor man probably had. There was no way he wasn't in pain from that wound. "Once you've eaten and had some tea, I'll change your bandages. It's been since yesterday that you had those on."  


"How long was I unconscious," Hit mumbled, trying your piping-hot stew; it was just as delicious as it looked.  


"At least as long as you'd had the bandages on, so don't worry. You weren't out for several days," you grinned at Hit, knowing that you missed a good joke, but didn't want to stress him out just yet. He seemed satisfied with your answer, slowly eating the stew you provided. "I've got a couple of things to do outside, so just take your time," you untied your apron and hung it on the small hook that was firmly mounted on a cabinet door near the stove. At that, you snatched up the bowl of scrap vegetable pieces and meat strippings, "You just make yourself comfortable and make sure to drink that tea." Before Hit could reply, you were out the ajar side door that lead into the vast outside.  


Hit took this opportunity to spy around your home, carrying he bowl of soup to continue eating. He found the living room right next to the kitchen; its large space full of furniture, knitting and sewing supplies, and other miscelllaneous object that seemed to be of some use toward a hobby. The room seemed less like a place to relax and more like a small workshop. No other doors were along the four walls, so Hit turned back to the hallway that lead to the guest room he had awoken in. He remembered three other doors along the way; one on his room's side of the hall, and two on the opposing side. The first from the kitchen was on the guest room's side; Hit tested the door handle, finding it unlocked. Upon cracking open the door just enough for the light to reveal what was inside, Hit found it only to be a small closet of cleaning supplies and such. Hit returned the door to it's former position and moved on. The first door on the opposite side of the hall revealed a bathroom; simple, tiled, and surprisingly with floor drain. Hit wasn't expecting the home to have much in terms of conveniences. So far, it didn't seem to have electrical lighting. The last door contained what Hit suspect: the master bedroom. Here, he knew he would find the more precious personal items he would need to learn about you. Anything you wanted to hide from the world would be kept here; or, at least, it would be the best place to start.  


The couple of open windows illuminated the area, showing your minimalistic tendencies. There were few knick-knacks on the dresser and nightstand surfaces, absolutely no clothes laid askew, and your bed as tidily made. Hit wasn't sure why he expected a house of clutter and discord. He moved to the dresser, starting with the bottom drawer; it slid open rather easily, despite a lack of guided wheels. There, he found clothes made of thick material. Most likely, these clothes were meant for the colder months. He carefully lifted them and checked underneath for a peak of possible hidden items. Nothing. Returning it all to its original position, Hit, moved on through the other drawers. All five gave the man not a damn thing. You hadn't a single clue of dark secrets. Well, there were other places to hide skeletons. For now, Hit didn't want to push his luck with your absence. He grabbed his bowl of stew, made sure everything was as he had found it, and returned to the kitchen bar moments before you entered.  


In the bowl you had carried out ealier, the food scraps were replaced with numerous eggs. You rested the container near the sink and began rinsing each egg, starting conversation with your new guest, "When you heal up some more, I'll have to introduce you to the farm. Everyone's curious about you. Even Biiba's been whining to me while I was out there." You chuckled, recalling the large wulg's childish behaviour.  


As if on cue, Biiba's large nose shoved it's way into the open door. A high-pitched whine expelled from the beast's nostrils, filling the room's air. With a larger opening, Hit was able to see more of this creature's head. The black nose faded into a tan layer of short fur, shaping the broad head with four eyes. A pair of narrow ears fluttered each time they brushed against the doorway, irritated that it was stimulating the sensory whiskers. "He's not ready to play, Biiba," you shooed the beast, trying to keep a serious face. It was humorous to see him so excited for a guest. "Maybe tomorrow; give him some time!" With a defiant grunt and a yap, Biiba tossed his head to leave, only resulting in an undesired bump against the door frame. He yelped, and backed away, wandering off to sulk in his embarrassment.  


"He'll be fine," you assured Hit, even if your guest showed no sign of concern for the aforemntioned beast. "Are you done with your bowl? Would you like more?" You looked over your shoulder to eye Hit, seeing him gazing at you with curiosity. "Um," you arched a brow, unnerved by the awkward stare.  


Realizing his odd behavior, Hit shook his head and straightened out, "I'm fine. It was good." He pushed the bowl away slightly, emphasizing that he had emptied it.


End file.
